


Void ab initio

by Leslie_Knope



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 10:13:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7887154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leslie_Knope/pseuds/Leslie_Knope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr prompt: “We were best friends in middle school and promised (signed a contract and all) if neither of us were in a relationship when we turn 30, we’d marry each other. You moved 5 years later and I haven’t seen you since but you just reached out on my 30th birthday to find out if I’m single. Minors can’t be held to contracts but puberty hit you like a truck and I just broke up with my long term boyfriend a month ago so what the hell I might as well catch up with you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Void ab initio

**Author's Note:**

> I saw [this Tumblr prompt](http://leslieknopeismyshiningstar.tumblr.com/post/148419628236/we-were-best-friends-in-middle-school-and) and couldn't pass it up.
> 
> So much fluff. And then some sex. I’m not even sorry.

“Oof,” Scott groaned as he dropped a box just inside the doorway. “I think that’s the last one.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Stiles said, stepping carefully over a pile of boxes to slap Scott’s shoulder. “It’s a nice place, right?”

“It’s lovely,” Kira said, from over by the large wall of windows. “This is such a great view.”

“I’m lucky that I found it. And I’m sure you two are glad to get me out of your hair.”

“You could have stayed with us as long as you needed to, you know that,” Scott said, his face painfully earnest. “You sure you’re okay, man?”

Stiles nodded, and his smile wasn’t even forced. “Yeah. Yeah, I really am.”

It had been about eight weeks since he broke up with his long-term boyfriend, Frank. Something about the two of them just didn’t feel _right_ , and since he was about to turn 30, Stiles didn’t want to wait around in a relationship that he knew had an expiration date. Even though he was the initiator, he was still sad about it, and it had been a tough decision. Plus, the two of them had lived together, which added a logistical complexity to the whole deal. Stiles lived with Scott and Kira in the meantime, while he looked for a new place and then waited until he could move into his new high-rise. It was a beautiful apartment, enough so that writing the rent check every month would definitely make him cry a little bit. Even on his cushy software engineer salary, San Francisco was an expensive city.

“Okay!” Lydia said, clapping her hands and shaking Stiles out of his reverie. “Unpacking time. Stiles, let’s start in the bedroom.”

Stiles groaned and looked to Scott, who was carefully backing toward the door and beckoning Kira closer. “We’ll go get some pizza!”

“Traitor,” Stiles hissed, but Scott just grinned and slipped out the door.

“You could be a little more grateful for my help,” Lydia said, her hands on her hips, and Stiles immediately felt bad.

“I really am, I promise,” he said. “It’s just a little overwhelming.”

“It’ll be fine. We’ll take it one box at a time,” she said, leading him by the hand into the bedroom. She pointed at a box labeled _Socks & Underwear_. “Why don’t you start there? I have no desire to touch your boxers.”

Stiles laughed and dragged the box closer to his dresser. “Deal.”

“What’s in these?” she asked, gesturing to a shabby pile of boxes in the corner.

“Um…I think those are from storage. I haven’t been through those in a long time, probably since I moved out of my dad’s.”

“Well, I can’t pass up the opportunity for embarrassing childhood photos.” Lydia sat down, pulling one of boxes toward her, and it was silent for several minutes until she burst out laughing. “Oh my god. Who the hell is Derek Hale?”

Stiles turned to see her holding a yellowed piece of paper and smiled. “Holy shit, I can’t believe you found that. He was my best friend when I was a kid.”

“You two were obviously close,” she said, waving the paper. “Is this a _marriage contract_?”

He peered over her shoulder, and his smile widened. “Yeah. I think it had something to do with his sister getting married…I don’t really remember. But we decided that if we weren’t married by the time we were 30, we’d marry each other.”

“Did you even know that you liked guys back then?”

“I dunno,” he said, thinking back. “I think I told Derek that I definitely wanted to be bi, just so that I would have more options.”

Lydia smirked. “That sounds like something you would say. So what happened, why don’t I remember him?”

“You didn’t even know I existed in middle school,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes, and Lydia shrugged, unapologetic. “His dad died when we were 13, and his family moved away—to New York, I think. We lost touch pretty quickly.”

“Was he cute?” Lydia asked, leaning forward. “You gotta keep those options open, you know. You’re almost 30, maybe he’s still single.”

“I don’t know, we did that when we were 12! He had braces and big ears.”

“Why haven’t you tried to find him?”

“I’ve looked a couple times,” Stiles admitted, “but I couldn’t find anything. I don’t think he has a Facebook. Hell, I don’t even know what city he lives in.”

“Hmm,” Lydia said as she carefully put the paper back in the box. “Interesting.”

* * *

“Happy birthday, Batman!” Erica called out as she swept into his office, holding out a red velvet cupcake. Stiles slipped his headphones off as he grinned at her and leaned back in his chair.

“Aw, thanks, Catwoman.”

Stiles reached for the cupcake while Erica, who was in the office next to his and had quickly become his best friend at work when she joined their company a couple months ago, perched on the end of his desk. “I can bring my boyfriend to your party tonight, right?”

“Oh, of course,” he said through a mouthful of cupcake, waving his hand. “Bring whoever you want—it’s just some people meeting at a bar, really casual.”

After they updated each other on their current project, she hopped off his desk and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Awesome. I’ll see you tonight, then.”

Stiles cut out of work pretty early—it _was_ his birthday, after all—and enjoyed a few mindless hours of video games before meeting Lydia for dinner. She treated him, and afterward they walked together to the bar where Stiles’ friends were gathering.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you,” Lydia said lowly, when they got closer. There was no question in her voice, but Stiles nodded anyway. He hadn’t had any desire to meet or date or hook up with anyone since his break up, and he was feeling embarrassingly rusty.

Lydia stepped in front of him and smoothed down the front of his shirt before resting her hands on his chest. “You are a hot single guy, out on the prowl in San Francisco on your birthday. If you don’t meet someone tonight, I’m going to be sorely disappointed.”

Stiles laughed. “Well, we wouldn’t want that,” he said dryly.

* * *

“Batman!”

Stiles whirled around and nearly choked on his beer. Erica was holding hands with a handsome black man, presumably her boyfriend, but Stiles’ attention was firmly fixed on the guy trailing behind them, who was tall and broad and dark-haired and just Stiles’ type, really. Actually, he was way hotter than Stiles’ usual type, but he supposed he could be coaxed into making an exception just this once.

“Happy birthday, babe,” she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek while he tried to get a better look at the other guy. “This is Boyd, and this is—”

Stiles extended his hand and then froze—those eyes looked pretty damn familiar. “Holy… _shit_ ,” he breathed. “ _Derek_? Seriously?”

Derek’s eyes widened as they shook hands, and a small smile spread across his face. “Wait, Stiles?”

“Um,” Erica said, tilting her head. “You two know each other? Please tell me that you hooked up once because that would be hilarious.”

“We were, uh, childhood friends,” Derek said, without taking his eyes off Stiles, and he tried to remember how to breathe.

“Hold up,” Erica said, holding both hands up between them and forcing them to finally break their handshake. “Oh my god, this is even better. The friend you had that _marriage contract_ with?”

Stiles didn’t answer her, too busy cataloguing the way Derek’s shirt clung to his torso, and when Derek didn’t either, Lydia leaned forward from her place behind Stiles. “Yes, that’s the one.”

Erica turned to Derek. “The guy who you said was turning 30 soon and was probably hot now?”

“You remembered my birthday?” Stiles asked, ignoring the other part for the moment, and Derek’s cheeks reddened, visible even in the low light of the bar.

“I remembered that it was in April,” he admitted. “But I didn’t even know how to start tracking you down.”

“You wouldn’t even tell me his _name_!” Erica cut in, and Derek frowned.

“Yeah, because I thought you would do something embarrassing,” he shot back, “like try to track him down _for_ me.”

“Well, looks like I did that without even trying, babe,” Erica said, with a truly shit-eating grin. She smacked him on the arm, and he rolled his eyes—from Stiles’ perspective, it looked like a well-worn (and well-loved) routine. “I can’t believe that my new work BFF is your long-lost lover.”

“You only ever called him Batman! How was I supposed to know.”

“Well,” Erica said, clapping her hands together and grinning delightedly. “So glad that I could inadvertently engineer this little love reunion. Let’s leave you two alone.”

She and Boyd disappeared into the throng of people, and Lydia tugged on Stiles’ shoulder until he leaned down. “You should really look into contract law. You better hope that’s legally binding,” she whispered in his ear, and Stiles blushed furiously.

“Please leave,” he hissed, and she turned with a flourish after flashing both of them a wink.

He turned to Derek, very aware of the fact that they were now alone and just standing there staring at each other, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “So…”

“Can I buy the birthday boy a drink?” Derek asked, gesturing to the bar, and Stiles exhaled.

“Yeah, of course,” he said, returning Derek’s warm smile with one of his own.

The bartender responded faster to Derek than Stiles, go figure, and soon they were clinking their beers together. “Happy 30th,” Derek said, his eyes twinkling, and Stiles smiled around the rim of his bottle. This night was turning out to be a lot more interesting than he had anticipated.

“Thanks. I’m glad you’re here.”

“I should have known that you were Batman,” Derek said, shaking his head. “You dressed up as him for Halloween like six years in a row.”

Stiles laughed, thinking of the pictures that still lined the walls of his dad’s house. “And I only stopped because I definitely outgrew that costume. I think that last year, the pants were more like capris. But you were always my Superman.”

Derek smiled and opened his mouth to say something, but they both turned their heads at a shout of Stiles’ name.

“Stiles!” the woman said again as she approached them, and Stiles finally placed her as someone that he faintly knew from the rock-climbing gym he used to go to. “I just heard that you’re the man of honor tonight. Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Justine,” he said, accepting her one-armed hug. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Where’s Frank?” she asked, looking around as if she expected him to appear from behind Stiles, and he gritted his teeth. This part always sucked—informing all the casual acquaintances of the break-up, a process that seemed to take months.

“We broke up,” he said with a tight smile, and her face fell.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, I promise,” he said, trying to reassure her, and she patted his arm once before leaving with a wave.

Stiles turned back toward Derek and forced a little laugh. “That was, uh, awkward—sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Derek said, shifting his weight. “I’m…sorry about you and Frank?”

“Dude,” he said, waving his hand, “it’s totally fine. We were together for a while, but I—things just didn’t feel right and so I ended it, a couple months ago. I’m good, I promise.”

Derek nodded. “So I guess your prediction about liking guys panned out,” he said, a little smirk pulling at his lips, and Stiles laughed.

“Sure did, dude, sure did. What about yours?” he asked. Derek just raised one eyebrow with a little smirk, and Stiles laughed. “Hey, let’s grab one of the tables over there. Less chance of getting interrupted.”

“You sure?” Derek asked as he stood up. “I don’t want to take you away from your party.”

“Are you kidding? I’d rather talk to you than any of them.”

He blushed again, and Stiles grinned as he grabbed Derek’s arm to lead him away. The sleeves of his white button-down were rolled up to his elbows, and the bare skin was warm under Stiles’ hand.

Stiles snagged an empty high top table in a secluded corner and dragged his stool closer to Derek’s. “So…what have you been up to for the past 17 years?” he asked, and Derek laughed.

“I stayed in New York for school, then moved out here about five years ago. I’m an architect now.”

Stiles tilted his head, imagining Derek in glasses for some reason—it was a _nice_ picture, though—and smiled. “I can totally see that, that’s awesome.”

“You must be a software engineer then, right? With Erica?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, nodding. “I love it. Turns out, miraculously, that writing code really helps with my ADD. Wish I had figured that out in high school.”

Derek laughed. “I remember that. I also remember the buzzcut. You look different without it,” he said with a little smirk, and Stiles laughed as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, thank god, right? That was not the best look. Speaking _of_ , congrats on getting rid of those braces,” he said, and Derek rolled his eyes. “So what about you? Were you single on your 30th? I always think of you on Christmas.”

Derek smiled and rolled his beer bottle in his palms. “Yep. Still am, actually.”

“Interesting,” he said. He took a deep breath. “I don’t think 12-year-olds signing a contract is legally valid.”

Derek looked him straight in the eyes. “That’s a shame.”

Stiles stifled an incredulous laugh—was this seriously happening?—and chewed on his lower lip while he drummed up some courage. “Maybe we could start with a date? You wanna go see a movie or something?”

“What about the new Ghostbusters?” Derek asked, grinning, and Stiles gaped at him.

“ _Dude_ ,” he said, flailing a little and accidentally smacking Derek in the arm. “We must have watched that movie a dozen times that summer, you remember?”

“Of course I remember, that’s why I suggested it.”

“Yes,” he said, nodding emphatically. “ _Fuck_ yes.”

“Is tomorrow too soon?” Derek asked, shifting on his stool, and Stiles laughed, utterly delighted.

“Tomorrow is not soon _enough_.”

Derek smiled, a frankly adorable little one that he directed down toward the table, and Stiles kicked him in the ankle just to watch him laugh.

* * *

Stiles sighed and leaned playfully into Derek’s shoulder as they walked out of the theater. “I’m kind of on the gay side of bi, but I would swing back over in a _heartbeat_ for Kate McKinnon, holy shit,” he said, and Derek laughed.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I think she’s gay, too.”

Stiles groaned. “Aw, damn, really? Figures. The best ones are always gay,” he said with a wink that he hoped looked suave rather than dorky. Probably not.

But Derek laughed anyway and grabbed his hand, tangling their fingers together. “I know.”

Stiles gulped and resisted the impulse to look down at their hands. “Uh, dinner?”

“My favorite sushi place is just a few blocks from here.”

“Perfect.”

Dinner flew by, even though they stayed long enough that the staff started stacking chairs and giving them dirty looks. It was like the best first date Stiles had ever had, multiplied by a hundred. All of the things that made them such good friends as kids were still true—Derek was friendly and funny and intelligent—and now, of course, he was also charming and devastatingly handsome. They still had lots in common, and between shared memories and catching each other up on the intervening years, there was plenty to talk about.

It was quite late by the time they finally paid and left, and when Stiles shivered against the cool breeze, Derek’s arm came up immediately to wrap around his shoulders. Stiles dipped his head down and bit his lip, trying to hide his smile at such a simple gesture—god, he felt like a teenager again. He looked back up and Derek’s face was _right there_ , unbearably handsome even in the harsh, hollow light from the streetlamp.

Derek tilted his head a bit, licking his lips, and Stiles took it the rest of the way, surging up to press their lips together. It was gentle at first, for a few seconds as they arranged their heads and arms and then somebody deepened it, and Stiles couldn’t keep in a little groan. God, it was good, hot and twisty, and he had no idea when his hand had migrated to Derek’s hair, but it was soft and silky in between his fingers.

Derek’s hand was low on his back, dipping into the waistband of his jeans, and Stiles arched back against the weight of it. He tugged on Derek’s lower lip with his teeth, making him exhale harshly as they pulled apart. Derek’s eyes were hooded and dark in the shadows, and Stiles’ gaze kept flicking between them and his red, red lips.

“This isn’t, uh, just a rebound for you, is it? Because I don’t think I want just sex.”

“God, no,” Stiles breathed, shaking his head. “To both.”

“Okay,” Derek said, nodding, and satisfyingly, a little out of breath. “Good. Do you wanna…”

“My place isn’t too far from here,” he said, with a hopeful little grin, and Derek nodded again.

They took an Uber back to Stiles’ apartment, and it was all he could do to keep his hands to himself on the ride there. Mostly, anyway, though he swore that his fingers traveled up and down Derek’s thigh of their own volition.

They shared the elevator with one of Stiles’ neighbors, so he had to settle for leaning his hip against Derek’s and wrapping an arm around his waist. Derek dropped a kiss on his forehead in response, and Stiles turned his face into that broad, broad shoulder just to hide his smile. He was so far gone, this was ridiculous.

He hustled Derek down the hall toward his apartment, and after Stiles fished the keys from his pocket, he didn’t even have time to flip on the light before Derek shoved him gently against the door. “I like your apartment,” he mumbled, and Stiles huffed out a laugh against his lips.

“All you can see is the door.”

“It’s a nice door.”

There were more things Stiles wanted to say—as was usually the case—but they seemed enormously trivial when he had Derek’s lips on his and full reign of his body to explore. He started with his chest, sliding up to his shoulders and down his strong, broad back.

“Shirt,” Stiles murmured, between kisses. “Fuck, fuck, take it off.”

Derek smiled and removed his hands from where they were plastered against Stiles’ ass, curving them around and up to the buttons of Stiles’ shirt. Derek untucked the shirt sharply and brushed his fingers against the soft skin of his belly, but Stiles huffed and wormed his own hand in between them.

“Wrong shirt.”

He was a little distracted, what with Derek’s tongue in his mouth and all, but Stiles finally managed with all the buttons and pushed Derek’s shirt off his shoulders.

“Jesus,” he said eloquently, fitting his hands in the grooves of Derek’s hips. The only light they had was from the moon through the windows, which cast harsh shadows on Derek’s torso that Stiles couldn’t really look away from.

Sometime when Stiles was leering Derek had gotten his shirt off, too, and his hand was searing hot as it drifted up Stiles’ chest and up to the back of his neck. Derek pulled him back into a rough kiss that Stiles eagerly pushed up into while he tucked his fingers beneath Derek’s waistband, tugging a little and then busying himself with his belt. Derek was faster, though, and Stiles hissed as his pants were shoved down to his thighs. But right before Derek plunged his hand into Stiles’ boxers, he froze.

“Are you clean?”

Stiles nodded, grateful that someone was keeping a clear head here. “I, uh, got tested a little while ago and haven’t, uh,” he said, distracted by the way Derek left stinging little bites down his neck, “haven’t been with anyone new in a long time. Are you?”

“No one since before my last test, three months ago.”

Stiles nodded and doubled his efforts with Derek’s pants. He groaned lowly at the sight of his dick, but he didn’t get much time to savor it before Derek was crowding even closer and pressing them together. Stiles curled his fingers around him, hot and smooth under his hand, and when Derek added his hand to the mix, soon enough they had a decent rhythm going.

It was a little dry, the friction more than was strictly ideal, but Stiles was so keyed up and so emotionally out it that he couldn’t imagine stopping for anything, even for lube or a comfy horizontal surface. God, it was good though, and Derek’s little noises, strangled grunts coming from the back of his throat as they kissed frantically, more than made up for the doorknob that was digging into Stiles’ back.

“Fuck, Derek, I’m gonna—,” Stiles said, breaking their kiss so he could heave more oxygen into his lungs. He rested his forehead against Derek’s shoulder and looked down, more than a little hypnotized by the rhythmic motions of their hands and their dicks.

With a sharp exhale, Derek moved his free hand down from Stiles’ neck and wrapped his arm low around his back, bracing them together. “God, you’re so—”

Stiles wanted to hear the end of that sentence, he really, really did, but Derek trailed off on a harsh cry and came all over their hands. He didn’t stop the movement of his hand, though, somehow, and Stiles squirmed wildly as Derek sped up and squeezed even harder. He unabashedly let Derek and the door take his weight and arched up onto his toes with a gasp as he came. He was on _fire_ , sparks practically emanating from his skin, and he couldn’t tell if it was him or Derek who was shaking.

Once they were breathing more normally, just as the come was starting to dry uncomfortably on his skin, Stiles felt along the wall to the switch and winced at the sudden flood of light. “Well, that was kinda embarrassing,” he said, scratching at his hairline. Derek gave him a flat look, and Stiles had to turn away—no one should look that dignified and handsome with unfastened pants below their ass and come all over their stomach, that was just a fact. “We didn’t even make it past the door! Or take our pants off.”

“All the more to do next time.” Stiles didn’t have anything to say to that, and Derek smirked as he looked around. “I was right, this is a nice apartment. Bathroom’s back here?”

Stiles nodded, and it was surprisingly _not_ awkward as they hobbled into the bathroom, hand-in-hand. They stripped each other, and Stiles dampened a washcloth with warm water as Derek mouthed at his shoulder blade.

They didn’t bother with putting clothes back on once they were finally clean, and Derek tackled him gently down onto the bed. He held Stiles down for a second, pressing kisses halfway down his back, before lifting up to his hands and knees and flipping Stiles over. With a lazy smile, he wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck and tugged him down. Stiles was full and tired and knew that he wouldn’t quite be able to get it up again so soon, but he thoroughly enjoyed making out with Derek, all roaming hands and long, lazy, wet kisses, until he fell asleep.

* * *

Stiles woke up with a mouth on his dick, which was, in his opinion, far and away the best way to wake up. He shoved the blanket down with a groan and squirmed against Derek’s tight grip on his hips.

“Oh, holy fuck, Derek, god,” he babbled—he never was good at keeping his words to himself at times like this. “Jesus Christ, that feels so good, please don’t stop…ah, ah, _ah_ , just like that, yeah, fuck—”

He only went silent when it was _really_ good, and for the next several minutes, it was all he could do to gasp for air as Derek ruined him, methodically and thoroughly, with each swipe of his tongue.

Stiles flailed and accidentally smacked Derek on the shoulder when he came, but Derek just smiled when he gasped out an apology. He untangled himself from the covers and moved up to the head of the bed, absently rutting against Stiles’ hip as he shifted. Stiles kissed him messily, trying to pour as much emotion into it as he could, before pulling back and squirming to settle between his legs.

“You don’t have to—” Derek started, but Stiles cut him off with a scoff and an eye roll. And then a kiss to his hip.

“Yeah, right. Just try to stop me.” He dipped his head down and then froze, his eyes wide. “Shit, unless you really don’t…uh, I didn’t mean that I would just—”

Then it was Derek’s turn to roll his eyes. “Please stop talking and suck my dick.”

“ _Gladly_.”

No more than _three_ minutes later—yeah, Stiles was pretty fucking proud of himself, thanks for asking—Derek was panting, with both hands covering his face, and Stiles was sitting back on his heels, wiping his mouth.

“Holy shit,” Derek said, his voice muffled behind his hands, and Stiles smirked. He slumped to Derek’s side and nestled halfway on top of him, his post-orgasm drowsiness kicking in hard. Derek lifted a hand and scratched through his hair, making Stiles groan lowly and scoot closer.

“Food,” Derek murmured.

“Hmm?” Stiles slurred back. He was half-asleep already, and his human pillow was not being sufficiently still.

“Do you have food? Breakfast is my specialty.”

Stiles groaned and pressed his face into Derek’s shoulder. “If you get up and make me breakfast, I’m gonna _die_.”

“Please don’t, I’d really like to have sex again after we eat,” Derek said as he gently untangled himself from Stiles and stood up. He stretched, looking disgustingly energetic for a guy who’d just had a pretty good orgasm, if Stiles said so himself. “You take a nap, I’ll make food.”

Stiles groaned again and moved into the warm spot on the bed, nestling down further into the sheets. Just a few minutes, then he would get up and help. “This marriage is gonna work out great!” he called out, leaning off the bed to thoroughly admire Derek’s ass as he walked away, and Derek threw a thumbs up over his shoulder.

* * *

Two years later, Stiles freaks out the week before their wedding when he can’t find the original marriage contract. He’s convinced that it’s some sort of bad omen, but Derek calms him down and convinces him that they’re about to have a _real_ marriage contract, one that’s legally binding and everything.

Turns out that Lydia “borrowed” it to get it professionally preserved and framed. It sits proudly on the front display table at their wedding venue, and Stiles maybe sheds a tear or two in relief when he sees it.

Derek gets their marriage license framed, too, and hangs them both in the entryway of their new house. Stiles tucks two photos into the corners of the frames, one of them as 12-year-olds and one from their wedding, and he smiles every damn time he walks by them.

**Author's Note:**

> Why hello there, new fandom! I recently stumbled upon Sterek—years late to the party, per usual—and am now dipping my toe into the pool. (Which is very daunting, by the way…you all have so much amazing fic!) I actually haven’t seen a second of the show (#oops), but I’ve read a truly alarming amount of fic over the past couple months. [I'm fairly new to Tumblr, come be my friend!](http://leslieknopeismyshiningstar.tumblr.com) ♥


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